The DokiDoki List
by Risque Tendencies
Summary: Drabble series - things that make the heart go doki-doki. First up: Romantica, Akihiko x Misaki
1. Romantica: Kissing The Jaw

**Summary:** This will be a 'drabble' (varying lengths) series of things that I love reading. Things that make my heart go doki-doki, thus the title. I haven't drafted a full list so I will update as I think of each idea and write a little piece on it. If **you** have any ideas, please feel free to PM them to me, or write them into a review. I will try my best to "fill" requests. I accept anonymous reviews. Thanks!

(I may put some Sekai Ichi Hatsukoi drabbles in here too, in future).

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**One: Kissing The Jaw**

"I will just... err... start here."

Misaki descended, lips gently pressed against the side of Akihiko's face, right by his ear. The youth was not quite bold enough to nip at the lobe like Usagi-san often did to him, so that was his compromise.

For Akihiko, having the opportunity to lay back and feel both the weight of his beautiful lover perched over him, and his warm gusts of breath so close was heaven. Misaki was a nervous sort when it came to trying to initiate, but the author found that each small gesture had a rippling effect throughout his form. It was no so much what Misaki was doing but the fact that he was doing it at all that enticed him.

Loving Misaki as he did, the phrase 'it's the thought that counts' resonated heavily with such rare encounters.

The boy slowly shifted, placing small pecks along the author's strong jaw, tickling the skin while simultaneously being tickled by the remnants of the man's clean shaven stubble. He smelled of soap and sweet skin, and Misaki breathed him in, feeling a buzzing content growing, low in his belly, as he continued on.

Akihiko reached up to rub his partner's shoulders, encouraging his forays.

Although his hands shook, his kisses were certain.


	2. Mistake: Carrying Me Home

**Summary:** Junjou Mistake (Isaka x Asahina). One of my favorite couples!

_AZ1087653_, if you are reading these, I will just say that the drabbles today are being written partially because "Anything not to write Takahiro!" LOL. After this one though, I will dutifully return to that other narrative.

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**Two: Carrying Me Home  
**

By this stage of intoxication, the executive was given over to emotional outbursts. They were standing outside of the restaurant in an attempt to help along his sobriety by catching a whiff of the crisp, nighttime air. The evening had been rather a bit of a disaster on the whole. Isaka had, dishonorable as the practice was, followed his lover of over a decade to the eatery, convinced that the man was cheating on him.

Given that he had had a few drinks before going, and had let his paranoia run wild, that had led to an unfortunate reveal in which he had thrown a glass of wine at the suspected "other man" and had embarrassed both he, and Asahina, who had been shocked to see him there. The suspicious character had turned out to be a travel agent that Asahina had been meeting up with to discuss plans for a surprise anniversary trip, but at the upset, the plans naturally fell through.

'My fault,' the dark brunette thought, stoically. His mood quickly filtered on to the next theme - sadness.

"Kaoru," he whined, pushing his lips into a pout as he leaned over the railing, "don't I always do that to you? Get you into troublesome situations, that is. Does it make you hate me?"

"It does get to be a bit over the top on occasion, Ryuuichirou-sama, but, then, I am used to it. As for the other question - I could never hate the one who holds my heart now and for all time."

Isaka swirled about face, staring him down as if to test the truth of the answer. He found no give-aways.

Sighing airily, he strode over and clasped leaned his head into Asahina's back, preferring this arrangement than to staring him in the eye. He still did feel - a tad - guilty after all.

"We can have a vacation right at home. Let's do it in the guest bedroom and not come out for the weekend. Doesn't that sound relaxing?" Isaka trilled silkily into his lover's ear, arm sneaking around the man's neck to hold him closer. The best feeling in the world was when he could snuggle up to his rock of a partner, coil his body like a snake and fit it to the man's strong form.

He couldn't see Asahina's face from back there, but the man let out a light chuckle, the sound tinkling through the chilly air and lending the milieu an undercurrent of warmth.

"Ryuuichirou-sama, I can tell you that if we did do that, relaxing would be the very last adjective I would use to describe our activity."

"Is that a promise?" His deep blue eyes brightened at the notion.

"Mmm."

Asahina then surprised him. "Ryuuichirou, why don't you climb on? I will carry you to the car."

Isaka's heart danced. It had been so long since they had done something so frivolous in public like that, and to him it sounded divine. He happily complied, allowing Asahina to grip him under the legs and clung to his partner's broad shoulders, cuddling his head in close.

He was ready to go on vacation.


	3. Terrorist: Petting Your Hair

**Summary:** Now here is some Junjou Terrorist for you. They are my favorite of Sensei's couples. I love Shinobu's hair :3 That is my dark confession, lol.

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**Three: Petting Your Hair  
**

His adorable brat had to possess the silkiest hair in existence, Miyagi thought.

Whether it was his age that allowed him this boon, the care he took of himself, good breeding, or the proper intake of vitamins, Shinobu's was soft - and eminently touchable. Just the feeling of running his fingers through it gave the professor a measure of calm that was sometimes needed to quell the anxious murmurings of his heart.

Shinobu snuggled his pointed face into the elder's shoulder, the length of his body turning to lay halfway draped on his lover's form, one leg coming to rest draped over the older man's.

Miyagi smiled at the repositioning and fondly delved one hand into the boy's honey locks at the back, petting a few silken strands; gently massaging the pads of his fingers into his little brat's scalp to soothe him further. Shinobu-chin looked so sweetly innocent right now, about to enter the realms of sleep that his old pacemaker could barely take it. He was no longer concentrating on the book he had picked up, too drawn to the tableau laid out before his eyes.

Humming contentedly, Miyagi was about to stop, to try and focus on the text once more when a faint whimpering sound nudged at his hearing. He looked down his body and sure enough it was Shinobu who appeared to have been the source of the noise.

"More... Miyagi, _more_..." the younger breathed out.

With his eyes closed it was hard to tell if the boy was sleeping yet or not. Perplexed, he resumed his stroking of the blond's hair, eying him carefully for a giveaway to tell one way or the other. Shinobu's chest rose and fell against his own in even rhythms, and his fingers twitched against the professor's warm skin almost unconsciously, so perhaps he was having some sort of dream.

"Oi, Shinobu," he called.

"F-feels good," Shinobu murmured sleepily, shifting his position and pressing tighter against, who was chagrined to notice that his stroking seemed to have aroused some physical feelings in the responsive teen...

He immediately corrected himself. No, the kid was not innocent. At times like these, Shinobu proved he was a veritable sex kitten, and apparently one thing he really liked was having his hair petted.

Clearly Miyagi couldn't expect to ever read a book in peace again.

**/end**


	4. Poetica: Licking Of The Lips

**A/N:** I'm sure there's probably a few fandub shipping names floating around there for Haruhiko and Misaki, but the one that I've decided to take up for use in stories I may pen is Poetica. Thanks to AZ for coining it. No, I do not hate Romantica. I never understood why if you like a character with different people you are automatically believed to hate the other option. I genuinely like Romantica. I am however finding I prefer Poetica, as the days pass... Anyway, enjoy! Geez, this is closer to a short one-shot than to a drabble length. Gomen!

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**Four: Licking Of The Lips  
**

Misaki was relieved. He had finally used up the last of the legion of cherries taking up space in Usagi-san's apartment. The final carton had been baked into a cherry pie and he sincerely hoped that was the box was the last box of the fruit that he would ever have to see in his young life again. There was nothing fundamentally wrong with cherries, but every person had their limit.

Misaki had thought though, whilst in the process of baking, that it might make for a nice 'thank-you/don't-ever-send-them-again' gift if he were to give Usagi-ani the pie he had created that afternoon. Granted, he had to sneak out past Akihiko to make the delivery, but he hadn't been with the man for as long as he had and not gained an understanding of the great lord's schedule.

That was how he had found himself at the palatial family residence an hour and a half later, having chosen to make the trip whilst Usagi-san was taking a nap. He had knocked on the door and been given admittance by Tanaka-san, who had also gone off to inform Usagi-ani that he was there to give him a gift. The two had converged in the Usami kitchen a few minutes later.

After making a polite introduction and presenting the confection to the gray-eyed businessman, Misaki had figured he would just go home and leave the pie for Haruhiko, if he wanted it.

However, this did not happen. Instead he found himself, inexplicably, eating a serving of the pie he had baked in the company of Haruhiko right there in the kitchen. The elder male had insisted, in his own quiet way, that they try it together. Though, that was probably Misaki's own fault. He _had_ accidentally blurted out that it was his first time making the recipe. Geez, he always seemed to lose control of his words around Usagi-ani. He was always ending up in these sorts of situations whether he meant to or not.

And so they did.

Misaki raised up his first bite, perched perfectly on the end of his fork. He eyed the man sitting to his right peripherally, noticing that he was taking a sip of water to cleanse his palate before eating. Satisfied that he was not being watched, Misaki plopped the morsel of dessert in his mouth and began to chew. As he consumed the pie he noted with a bit of self-pride that it had turned out delicious; the perfect blending of tart and sweet. Given that it was an American recipe translated over to Japanese, he could feel extra gratified that he had been able to tackle it on the initial foray.

Excited now at his success, he cut himself off another bite, this one containing more cherry filling than the previous one. He went to eat it, and though he fit most of it in, a little of the sugary sauce trickled over his lip.

At first he frowned, and was planning to grab his napkin to wipe it away (as just licking it clean himself seemed coarse table manners, and being in a mansion did make the young man think about manners quite a bit) when something happened.

Leaning in from the side, he felt lips connect with his, and though he squeaked a bit in surprise at that, the action that threw him most off balance was when Haruhiko's tongue casually swiped over his mouth, licking away most of the cherry filling in one broad tasting pass. Misaki turned more to the right, his eyes wide, and they closed as the elder came in for one more oral venture, cleaning the rest of the sauce.

Misaki's lips parted during, and he relaxed to a slight degree, unconsciously waiting.

Nothing came of the waiting. The older brunette carefully retreated once the fruit filling had been tasted clean, his actions leaving a pulsing tingle behind where he had touched. Misaki stumbled a little at the sensation, bringing one hand up to suss his lower lip, where the feeling was the most palpable. Misaki felt a blush building in his cheeks, and he glanced up in surprise at Usagi-ani, who seemed as unruffled as always.

Had it been his authorial lover, Misaki expected Akihiko would have taken the sudden opportunity, sliding in his tongue to conquer Misaki's and slick over the various planes of the youth's mouth, reaffirming his passion and his claim with each and every swipe.

So for Haruhiko to not probe further was, well, unexpected.

The college student found himself flushing even harder at the thought, 'Why didn't he?' This unusual turn, for what it was, he discovered he actually enjoyed. Even though Misaki, deep down, didn't hate his perverted rabbit's advances as much as he purported to, this simple play by Haruhiko of not pushing his boundaries was rather stirring in of itself. A different experience, perhaps.

"Um..." he asked awkwardly, "So... how do you like the pie?"

Takahashi Misaki, in the prime of his youth, was not one to know how to diffuse a dangerously pleasant situation.

**/end**


	5. MinimumEgoist: Gloves

**A/N: **Now, a combination of Minimum and Egoist. Wahoo. :D In other words I am wondering if I should call this a short one-shot series, as I feel like some of these are way too long to be called a "drabble."

**Five: Gloves**

Hiroki inwardly sighed, reminding himself that this was for Nowaki and that he needed to make an effort to keep the atmosphere happy.

Obviously, since he never would have agreed to go out with another "couple like them," or call it a fun time at that. In all though, it truly wasn't as big of a bother as he made it out to be. If Hiroki had to say, the only one who was bothered was Nowaki, because even though he had gotten his wish, the only couples either of them had been able to come up with when they put their heads together were Professor Miyagi and his brat or Akihiko and the Takahashi kid.

The first two were a no because Hiroki didn't relish the idea of spending more time outside of work with his wacky superior, and also because the two couldn't really risk having their relationship exposed without some very adult consequences. So, by default, without even giving it further thought, they had gone with the latter option.

Problem being, that Nowaki wasn't Akihiko's biggest fan, and that fact was somewhat obvious with the tense manner in which Nowaki spoke if having to share a conversation with the author. Nowaki was never rude, but, knowing him as he did, Hiroki picked up on the hard feelings. He wondered what would have been the worst option in the end, spending an evening with Bakahiko, or with Miyagi.

It was strange that he was the one to conceive of it, but perhaps they needed a wider circle of friends.

The two couples had gone to dinner together, and the idea had been to head over to a nearby park afterward, as it was a full moon, and would make for a nice stroll. Not exactly a "group bonding" sort of activity, but then, who were they trying to kid?

Hiroki and Nowaki had ended up walking behind Akihiko and Misaki, keeping to themselves as they made their way through the foliage shielded path. Having the branches of the trees overhead kept the newly falling snow from being an irritant, and it made Hiroki feel more comfortable with walking so closely to his partner of almost a decade. There were very few people here at that hour, so maybe it wasn't so bad.

His hands were beginning to get cold though, and he wished that he had remembered to pack along a pair of mittens or something.

Of course, nothing about him escaped Nowaki, who had within a minute or two of his having the thought, reached within the pocket of his coat and produced a pair of gloves, proffering them with a, "Here, Hiro-san, please wear these and feel warmer."

Hiroki's sienna eyes had narrowed, and he had glanced meaningfully at Nowaki's own bare hands. "I will... if you bring out the second pair."

"I only packed a pair for you, Hiro-san," Nowaki answered, not seeming perturbed in the least. "I thought you might want them later. I am fine."

"Don't be stupid, Nowaki."

"I really want you to wear them, Hiro-san, so please take them."

"I won't."

He abruptly turned away his gaze, saying to the other that his answer was his final one. Nowaki sighed distressedly, still clutching the gloves, and they continued on walking down the path. Hiroki stuck both of his hands in his pockets, but even that didn't really abate the sensation too much. The air was bone-chilling now, and he had a horrible feeling that a large snowstorm was only just beginning.

The professor looked ahead at their aloof companions, and noted with a raised brow something that provoked a memory from long ago.

Akihiko was wearing a glove on his left hand, and Misaki one on his right. Between the two, their hands were entwined, glove-less, but probably warmer for clutching the other.

'_Up to old tricks, Akihiko_?' Hiroki thought when he made the connection to the time Akihiko had done something similar with him when they were kids. When he was younger, it was a memory he would have secretly cherished, but by now, in light of the way his life had taken a turn, it had nearly all but faded.

Huffing, which let loose a cloud of steam, he stopped in the middle of the walk, grabbing the accursed gloves from a surprised Nowaki, and, getting one for his right hand, he handed the other back.

He put his on, and then instructed, "You wear that one, and then give me your other hand."

Nowaki's countenance lit up, and he complied with the request in less than half a minute, eagerly offering his right hand to be held. Hiroki took it with some trepidation. Was it really a good idea to be doing this...? If it made Nowaki happy, then that was one thing that he did not regret, but he did feel conflicted, as the idea had spawned from memories with another.

"Now, don't get any crazy notions, Nowaki, this is not some romantic stroll, or anything. It's only out of necessity."

"Of course, Hiro-san," the younger chimed, his tone jubilant in a manner that clearly showed that he planned on interpreting it in only the mushiest of ways, in his mind of minds. Still, Hiroki couldn't be tempted to stop him from doing so.

He conceded after a time that the best part about memories was that they could always be made anew.

**/theend.**


	6. Nostalgia: Soothe

**A/N:** Here is some Sekai Ichi Hatsukoi for you all. Finally I would like to take the opportunity to _shamelessly_ self-promote. On or around the day of **July 13th, 2012** (also known as my birthday), I will be releasing the first chapter of a story that has been long in the making. It is called Princely Plot Bunny, and will be a long AU story that deals with all the pairings of** both** SIH and Junjou Romantica.

**Summary: **Prince Usami Akihiko faces a difficult enough time with his own love life without having to witness the scramblings of the noble class. Come and witness to the trials and tribulations that make these lords and commoners all so very human.

**Genres:** Romance, Drama, Humor, and Fluff, generally, but it is a nice, rich mix of genres.

**Warnings:** M-Preg, Smut, and Sensitive/Dark Topics.

If that sounds remotely interesting to you, I suggest adding me to your Author Alert so that you will know when it is posted. :)

******Six: Soothe**

Masamune had seen the world through both clear and shadowy lenses at various points in his life. His perspective was always colored by one overarching factor, and that was, and had been for a little over a decade, Ritsu. When he apart from the younger man, he quite simply was lost, and his persona was relegated to a poor autopilot, concerning himself mainly with work, and not much else. That was now.

When the separation had first set in, he had not even been able to function at that level. Ritsu at that time existed rather like an addiction - something that he had not had before, but now that he had it, he could not do without him. Withdrawal from his love was a spiraling experience' one that he would rather not dwell on.

Masamune opened his eyes to the eerie world between sleep and waking.

His limbs were heavy and for all the world fixed in place, not sensing their surroundings and facilitating the vivid vestiges of disquiet that still shadowed him after that reflective dream. He felt sweat upon his brow, vision blurry in the wake of the dark room and the absence of his glasses. His torso was cold and the air stung at it without covers to protect his chilled skin.

The room was of heavy atmosphere, and he glanced around it as best as he was able, noting the faint outlines of furniture and walls; the darkened portion that might have been his bedroom door.

In his meanderings, he failed to search the most obvious places and his mind admonished him on that point, directing him to the other side of the bed, and to the sleepy form of the one who drove the demons out in the space of a single gasped breath of surprise. Masamune could not for the life of him remember how this happened, so perhaps there had been outside influences involved that were hindering his memory.

He reached out a little, his arm suddenly, blissfully filled with energy to make the move, after being locked up with the fear of the past. His fingers tangled themselves in a few of Ritsu's soft brown locks and weighed the softness, the light of them, before releasing the prize and smoothing it back down.

Just to _see_ him there in bed jump-started his weary pacemaker; to view the lovely outline of his form where it made the mattress dip stirred other emotion as well. Ritsu was lying nearly face down, his front pointed away from the older's eyes. It made no matter, in the end, for the man was as lovely from any angle that Masamune might have studied him at. When one wears the lenses of love, there are no right or wrong vantages.

Ritsu's back was long, pale, and slender, a pillar of tempting flesh that wanted for his hands of his tongue on it to explore further. It dipped and then curved at the base of his spine, carrying through to his sweet buttocks, which warranted a kiss or three as well, preferably ending with a tongue thrust inside, so that he might hear the lyrical moans this gesture predictably tore out of Ritsu's delicate throat. From there, the expanse trailed down into soft thighs and slightly tauter calves, ending all with Ritsu's curled feet, which had somehow avoided tangling with the sheets crumpled at the end of the bed.

Masamune sighed, somehow sated by his watching. His thought completed with another warning prick on his skin that reminded him of the temperature. At least he could guess at how the night had played out.

He sat up in bed momentarily, reaching down for the top sheet and the blanket, sorting them out and then tugging upward. As Masamune settled back down, he scooted closer to his sleeping bed mate, tucking the blanket firmly around him and then spooning in head to toe, gently as not to wake Ritsu, for if that occurred then the dream would unfailingly have to come to an end.

Until morning, he could allow himself this comfort, and thereby be soothed.

**/end**


End file.
